Too Much
by robspace54
Summary: Can entertainment take us to places where we ought not to be?


Too Much  
By robspace54

**FARSCAPE is owned by the Henson Company. This tale borrows some elements from that production. Written for purely personal entertainment and no copyright infringement of that production or anything else mentioned in this story is implied or intended.**

**No violence, rated for all ages, ten and up.**

**Sometime after the PK Wars…**

She heard a voice echoing through the huge room. "Quiet!"

The building was large, and the room took up the entire thing, with a high ceiling and smooth floor, something that felt like duroferr under her boot soles. Arc lights were shining down on about a quarter of the room so she went towards the light, detouring around large boxes on wheels, some large enough to climb into. The ones that were empty must have held cargo once, but others had doors and windows. Those windows that were lit showed small rooms, others with tables and chairs, or desks and cabinets.

She pulled her pulse pistol from her holster and fingered the safety off, holding the gun at her side. The lights were overhead now, some on booms and swing arms, others in cylindrical tubes hanging from struts and beams. Cables and wires linked them in a macabre spelnack web overhead.

"Where's the extra?" a voice yelled. "Get 'er in here! We're burning…" the man's voice stopped when she came around a large wall, which was painted on one side, covered in cable runs and ductwork, but the reverse was what the humans called wood. Plywood maybe?

"You!" the man screamed at her and she almost shot him right there. He ran to her side and when she saw he was unarmed, and no one else was pointing any weapons at her, she put her pistol back into the holster. She kept her hand near the grip though as she scanned the area. She counted six men and two women, and none looked dangerous, more startled than anything.

They stood in the middle of a small room, the walls covered with more cables and piping, along with instrument panels covered with massive switches and large dials. Three chairs that reminded her of antique air assault ejection seats were screwed to the floor.

"Me?" she asked.

The man, short and fat, with no hair, with a florid facial hair on his upper lip put his sweaty hand on her upper arm. "Wow!" His eyes roved up and down over her and from his very male reaction she felt like shooting him even though he was no threat. "Fantastic! Great costume! That's what the designer came up with?" He whistled a low whistle.

"What's that supposed to mean?" she asked.

"Nothing, babe. Just… appreciating the merchandise."

"I'm not selling anything."

"Oh?" The fat man walked around her and she crossed her arms as he inspected her body. "Tall, dark, handsome. Well… we'll have to see if the front office will let us show that much cleavage, though. Like the pants. Is that leather?"

"It's made of monomolecular polymer from Thetis Two," she said and somehow wondered how she knew that.

"Uhm, the bare midriff or the bare arms, can't have that, but if the vest was longer and you wore a shirt? Yep. Maybe a white shirt. We can make it work. But black? Boots too! Yep. Sweet. A knockout."

"Huh?" she muttered trying to make sense of what he said.

"Well, whatever. You got a script?"

"A… a what?"

"You know, doll. Lines? That sorta thing."

One large hairy hand almost settled on her hip and she had a choice to shoot him or step to the side, so she took a half-step. "Lines? I don't…"

"Who's this?" a tall blonde man seated in a fabric chair asked.

"Oh, yeah," the fat man said. "Gotta name, babe?"

"Uhm…" what was her name, she wondered? There was some error or something to her thoughts.

"Nervous?" the blonde man asked. "Well don't be. We all started out as neophytes. You'll get the hang of it soon enough." His pants were loose and his shirt open to his navel. he was smiling so did not seem much of a threat, yet.

"Soon?" she answered. "Er…rin… I think. Yeah. Erin… Soon-er," she said. It was close but not quite right, but maybe when the fuzziness in her head passed it would seem right.

The man stood up and stalked towards her. "So Erin, nice to meet you. I'm Larry."

"Larry?" She looked him up and down. His arms were bare and muscular and he had an impressive chest. It was hairless and broad and it was a bit large than someone else's – someone that seemed a dim memory.

Larry stuck out his hand. "I guess you've seen me before. But don't be nervous. I'm a real live person. A lot better than any screen version. Buster usually up there."

Erin found herself comparing this tall smiling man to some other person who was not as muscular, and had dark hair and eyes. "Fine," she said but had to force a smile.

Larry laughed. "You're an Aussie? Swell. Love your accent."

"Ozzie?" she muttered.

"Sydney?"

Erin crossed her arms. "Don't think I know anyone named Sydney."

The blonde man and the fat man laughed, followed quickly by the other men standing around. Erin could tell most of it was fake and also that the women grinned, but did not laugh.

"You're funny," Larry said. "You can call me Buster if you want." He sighed. "I suppose they'll have to splash that all overt the bills – Starring Buster Crabbe. Otherwise, no one will want to see this turkey."

"Oh come on, Buster," shouted a woman who raced over clutching a metal platter to her sweater covered chest. "Look Flash Gordon sold and Buck Rogers too! This will do fine!"

Larry laughed. "Don't you think the studio has ridden that horse as far as they can? This is a Flash episode dressed up merged with some Tarzan and Buck Rogers! The only reason, Susan that they gave us the go-ahead is that…"

The woman, who must have been named Susan, took the rectangular thing and started to beat the blonde man with it. "OOOH! How dare you say that!" she yelled and started crying all at once, as she struck his arms, head, and chest. She wore a tight red sweater over a full pointy chest and a long skirt that sheathed her legs. "I've worked hard for this job! Don't you dare accuse me of using the casting couch! I wrote EVERY word!"

The ridiculous shoes with tall heels looked unusable to Erin over rough ground or any combat mission, but what she wore did not hinder her from trying to beat the man senseless.

The man cowered a bit then started to laugh. "Susan! Stop!"

Erin stepped back and pulled out her pistol aiming it at Larry's head. "Should I shoot him?" She pivoted and then swung the gun towards the woman. "Or should I shoot you?"

The fat man laughed and swept the gun from her hands. "Oh, this is great!" he said running his greasy hands over it. "Props have done a great job!"

Erin chopped at his hand and got the pistol back as his finger was dangerously close to the trigger and the safety was off. "No! MY GUN!" she yelled.

The fat man rubbed his arm where she's struck him. "God lady. That hurt. You built that thing? Fair enough. It's yours. Nice job. Looks… well, if I didn't know better I'd say it was real! What you call it?"

"It's a standard issue pulse pistol," Erin blurted out. "And I have no idea how I know that."

Larry held up his hands to the Susan woman. "Sue, sorry. Look, it's just, I'm not crazy about this plot. "Space Trek? What sort of a name is that?"

The woman named Susan wiped her face then stuck a fist under Larry's nose. "Look, Larry, or Buster, or whatever the hell you're calling yourself today. Your job is to read the lines that I wrote! Play the part of this spaceship captain, right? Not criticize my writing!"

Larry grabbed the metal object from her and now Erin could see it had sheets of what she knew was paper clipped to it. "Oh yeah. Here we go. Captain James T. Bowman of the Spaceship Odyssey…" he laughed. "What junk."

Erin coughed as she holstered the pistol. "James T. Kirk."

"What?" Susan swung to face her. "How do you know that?"

"Uh, just seems to fit better." Eric coughed. "And Space Trek?"

"Well what's wrong with it?" Susan yelled.

Erin rubbed her eye where a headache started to blossom. "Star Trek. Enterprise."

"Star trek? What's that supposed to mean?"

Erin rubbed her head. "Space trek sounds wrong, somehow. _Star trek_. Seems to fit better."

Larry laughed. "Yeah, Star Trek," he said waving his hand in a broad wave, "Swoosh!"

"In space," Erin said, "no one can hear you… erh, swoosh. No air," she finished.

Susan shook her head. "Star Trek, Erin?" she hissed, "sounds like wagon train to the stars. My God. And about the name Kirk?"

"Yes?"

"How in the world did you know that Kirk was the original name for my captain? I thought it sounded, too… too… bold."

"To boldly go," Erin answered wrinkling her nose. "Go for it."

Larry laughed. "I like that better. Kirk. Kiirrkk. Yeah. Harder, better, than Bowman."

"Bowman got sucked through the Monolith, anyway," Erin said. "Never found out what happened to Hal either?"

"Hal?" the fat man asked. "Monolith? Say, you been reading a lot of Campbell's pulps, right? My name's Sam, by the way."

"Asimov," said Susan, "or van Vogt?"

"Pulps?" Erin said, her head feeling like fire. "Forget I said anything, Stark."

"You okay?" asked Susan. "You don't look so well."

Larry took her arm and she didn't mind the feel of his large hand around her upper arm for the feel reminded her of – someone. "Here. Sit." He guided her to his chair and she sat heavily. "Frank, get some water for this lady!"

A young kid came running over with a cup of water. "Here you are… Miss Sooner."

"I never miss," Erin muttered. "Now why did I say that?"

"Donnoh." The kid watched as she drank. "I heard what you said. Campbell is the best! His Astounding Science…"

"Not now, Frank. That's enough,"Sam said.

"It's just science fiction Sam. What are we making here anyway?" the kid yelled. "To go to the planets…"

"Or the stars. Billions and billions," Erin said and as she did the heaviness in her head started to lift.

"Right," the kid laughed. "That would be boffo! How long would take anyway? Years?"

"A five year mission," Erin muttered but the kid went on.

"To set foot on other worlds," the boy laughed his face beaming. "That would be great!"

"Strange new worlds," she added.

The boy laughed. "Yeah – strange new worlds! Wow! That would – well you'd need atomic power!"

"Anti-matter reactions, unless you can Starburst. But you need a Leviathan for that." Erin added. She drank more water and her headache was really fading.

"Leviathan? Hey this isn't a Moby Dick movie, you know," the fat man laughed. "Just spaceships and bug-eyed monsters."

"Spaceships, no," corrected Erin. "Starships. Command carriers, dreadnaughts, as well. No X-wings though. But there are monsters."

Susan pulled a writing instrument from the coil of hair on her head. "What was that?"

"Dreadnaught – Scarran dreadnaught. Tough to beat. If you see one, run."

"Yeah," Susan scribbled on her paper. "Dreadnaught. What else was that? Dreadnaught Enterprise."

"No!" insisted Erin. "Starship Enterprise."

"Right," the woman said writing quickly. "More?"

"Don't forget that the Eagle has landed too."

"Eagle? You just said Enterprise."

Erin shook her head. "No I recall it was definitely Eagle. Or was it? No wait." She paused and rubbed her hands together. "Babe Ruth, Broadway Joe, Neil Armstrong." She snapped her fingers. "Earth heroes. Yes – it goes 'that's one small step for man, one giant leap for mankind.' See? I do remember! He forgot the 'a' though according to… according to... somebody."

Susan dropped to one knee, her eyes wide. "Girl, whatever is in your head? It's spilling out like… I don't know what! You're high on something."

"Girl? I am no one's female!" Erin shouted and jumped to her feet. "Zero G and I feel fine! I'm a Sebacean anyway."

"Don't get excited, lady," the fat man told her. "Calm down."

Erin coughed. "I will not be a slave to your hormones… Jo… Joh… Jaaack!"

"Steady, Erin," Larry said. "Just take it easy…" he said quietly. "George, have somebody call the cops. Or maybe a doctor."

"No!" Erin pulled her pistol out and fired it at the ceiling where it blew a hole a few feet in diameter and in a shower of sparks half the lights failed. "NO Peacekeepers!" she yelled.

Half the people in the room hit the deck or scattered but the ones closest she held the gun on. "Do not move!" She leveled the weapon at them. "Don't move… or I'll, I'll fill you full of little bolts of light! Get Zhaan! Quick!"

Larry's face had gone pale. "Steady, Erin. Just… put the gun… down. Okay?" He started to edge forward. "Take it… easy, girl."

"No!" Erin yelled. "Where's Buckwheat when you need him?" She stopped and tightened her grip on the pistol. "I'm… my name is… Sulu or… Skywalker."

"Steady, steady, lady." The boy said from behind the fake wall. "You're just a little lost, right. My auntie – well she sees things and hears voices and…"

Erin fired another bolt into the ceiling, which missed lights and just opened up the roof some more. "Stop. I'm not crazy, I just have this… Sparky! That's it. Sparky or maybe Yoda. Yoda from Dagobah."

The fat man looked up from the floor where he was trying to imitate a Horta, or so Erin thought. "Lady, you are insane."

"Insane? Well then I have been since birth, or suicidal as I was a test pilot! Uhm, a Prowler pilot."

Larry slid a little closer. "Erin Sooner. Now just put the gun thing down."

"Pulse pistol. Get the DRDs. A leak on tier three!"

"Okaaay. Whatever."

Erin laughed loudly. "It's not a lightsaber or a blaster, or a Qualta blade! It's a pulse pistol and I have plenty of chakkran oil for it."

Sam, the fat man, looked up from the floor. "Lady just go, right? Get lost."

In the background a siren-like noise started up and was getting louder.

"Yes, yes. That's it, I'm lost," Erin said. "Lost in the stars. Fly me to the moon and let me play…" she gulped. "Among Starfleet or R2-D2. Forty feet, drifting to the right a little!"

Larry edged closer. "Erin let us, uhm, help you."

She sighed deeply and felt her face break. "You can't you can't because… Jack, no Jo, Johnnn, is dead! John's dead! I held him when he died!" She held the gun out at arm's length then bent her elbow and raised it to her head. "But he came back… like Jesus. He came back."

"Religious nut," sighed Sam.

"Lady, no, don't for God's sake…" Buster yelled.

She went on maniacally. "There was a baby… a baby, John's baby. And Scorpius would not stop chasing us, and Rygel was pregnant with my baby, and Chiana went blind and D'argo died and Pilot was sick and they blew up the planet! The Scarrans did that. Crais took out the Carrier with Talyn! Xhalax was my mother but she tried to kill me, like she did my father! Sikozu was a spy, and Zhaan brought me back but she died… and… I can't… can't; can't – it's too much, it's too much!"

"Now wait a minute, lady," Buster Crabbe said. "Just set down the gun…"

Erin's voice rose to a fever pitch, now screaming. "It's all mixed up! And I can't…. I'm lost! John, I'm lost!" she screamed. "John! Help me! I LOVE YOU!"

"For God's sake! It'll be okay!" someone yelled.

Erin tightened her finger on the trigger and it all went white.

000

"Aeryn. Aeryn? Hey! Wake up!"

Someone or something was nudging her. In one swift motion she grabbed her pistol from the holster, aimed it and opened her eyes. John Crichton stared at her his hands held out in surrender.

Aeryn swiftly scanned the room, just the two of them visible but she could hear little D'argo snoring in his cot against the wall.

"It's okay, babe. You're fine," John was repeating. "It's okay."

Aeryn whipped the gun around and wiped at her tear-streaked face. "You're sure. Fine. Safe?"

John knelt on the bed. "We were watching the TV is all."

Aeryn looked at the earth TV where an improbable off-kilter starship crossed the screen. "Space track."

"Star Trek."

"Oh…" she holstered the gun. The soaring ribs of the walls and ceiling told her they were on Moya. "We're home."

"Yep. Just watching the TV, an old tape, when you fell asleep. Guess you had a bad dream."

Aeryn got off the bed, went to the cot and bent down over baby D'argo. "He still sleeps."

John came to her and hugged her. "He's had a full day. Crawled three feet and tried to ride a DRD."

Aeryn touched the downy head of their child. "Not a dream."

"Nope." John kissed the nape of her neck. "But you had a bad one?"

Aeryn turned and folded herself into John's arms. "Think so."

John held her as he had for many a time, knowing that Aeryn had her own demons to wrestle, just as he did. The vision of a wormhole eating a sun filled his mind but he pushed that one away. "We're safe now."

Aeryn sighed. "Are you sure?"

"Well the Peacekeeper and Scarran peace is holding and the Idolons are holding meetings every solar day with both parties. It will hold."

Aeryn tried to just experience how good it was to be held by John Crichton. No one was chasing them it seemed. That was good. Very good.

John kissed the top of her head. "Ready for bed?"

She smiled. "Don't think I can sleep now."

John got a devilish grin. "Who said anything about sleep?"

Later, a sweaty and naked Aeryn lay next to John and asked him, "John, is it possible to have too much?"

"Too much what?" he chuckled and she slapped at his roving hands.

"Stop." She sighed as John sometimes had a one track mind and for that matter so did she. She hugged him tightly. "Too much science fiction."

"Oh," he sighed, "I don't know. Maybe. Maybe not." Her nuzzled her neck and she laughed.

"Mm."

"Why'd you ask?"

"Oh, just wondered." She snuggled up against the human she loved. "Now, who was Buster Crabbe again?"

**Apologies to Star Trek, Flash Gordon, Buck Rogers, Star Wars, 2001: a space odyssey, and the late great two-time Olympic swimming champion Larry "Buster" Crabbe and of course, FARSCAPE. Apologies also to NASA, John Glenn, and the late Neil A. Armstrong. And of course John W. Campbell and Hugo Gernsback who created pulp sci-fi fiction.**


End file.
